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OLD DECCAN DAYS.

tasted it for the second time, she answered, 'Oh no! Oh no! it is not milk that I taste, but blood. All last night I had a dreadful dream, and this morning when I woke I found that my marriage necklace had snapped in two; and now this milk tastes to me as blood. Let me go! let me go! for I know my husband is dead.'

The good old woman tried to comfort her, saying, 'Why should you fancy he is dead? He was quite well yesterday, when he went to sell your bangle; and he said he would come back to you soon; in a little while, very likely, he will be here.' But she answered, 'No, no; I feel sure that he is dead Oh, let me go! for I must find him before I die.' Then the old woman said, 'You must not go; you are too beautiful to run about through the streets of this strange town alone; and your husband would be very angry if he saw you doing so, and who knows but that you might lose your way, and get carried off as a slave? remember, he told you to stay here till he returned. Be patient; remain where you are, and I will go quickly into the town and seek your husband. If he is alive I will bring him back to you, and if he is dead I will bring you word.' So, taking a chattee full of milk on her head, as if to sell, she went to the town to find Koila, while every minute seemed an hour to Chandra, until her return.

When the old milk-seller reached the town, she went up and down all the streets, looking for Koila, or expecting to hear some one mention the handsome stranger who had gone to sell such a wonderful bangle the day before. But she could not find him, nor did she hear him spoken of; for all were afraid to say a word about him, on account of the Rajah's decree. Being unable to trace him, the old woman got suspicious, and began to search more carefully than before, down all the streets near the market-place, where she thought he was most likely to have gone; but, lest people should wonder at her errand, she called out each time as if she had some different thing to sell. First, 'Buy some milk— who'll buy milk—who'll buy?' Then, on going for a second time down the same street, 'Buy butter—butter! very fine butter!' and so on. At last one woman, who had been watching her with some curiosity, said, 'Old woman, what nonsense you talk! you have been half a dozen times up and down this same street, as if you had half a dozen different things to sell in that one chattee. Any one would think you had as little sense as that pretty young bangle-seller yesterday, who spent all the day trying to sell it, and got put to death for his pains.'